If I Could Write
by Misty 82
Summary: Post-Knights of the Old Republic one-shot. lsm!Revan/Bastila.


She hadn't been foolish enough to think that returning would be, in any stretch of the Force, easy. Of the few things that Bastila would choose hopping into a sarlacc pit over, admitting that she had made a mistake—and a large one at that—was at the top of her list. She nonetheless found herself tossed into that exact position following the destruction of the Star Forge. Facing the crew of the _Ebon Hawk _was difficult enough for her; facing the Jedi Council on Coruscant would be even worse.

In just under two standard years, Bastila Shan had "defeated" and captured Darth Revan, returned him (half alive) to the Jedi to have his memory wiped, commandeered a Republic flagship, been kidnapped by a swoop gang, sent on a quest with the former Darth Revan to find Star Maps and defeat Darth Malak, been partially reunited with her mother as well as received news of her beloved father's death, fallen in love with the amnesiac former Sith Lord, fallen to the dark side, been brought back to the light, and admitted her love to Revan. Going _through _all of that was one thing; answering for it was another.

This list of her actions throughout her quest alongside Revan had been rattled off to her during her hearing with the Jedi Council, called as a consequence to her actions during that time. "Do you have any objections to these charges, Padawan?" inquired one of the more intimidating Jedi Masters.

"Well… no, Master," she replied. Her palms clamed up and her body grew hot—"_Charges? Am I on trial? Will they exile me?" _she wondered. Attempting to reassure herself, she once again reminded herself of her powerful Battle Meditation ability. Even with the war over, it made her a valuable asset to the Jedi cause in any conflict. And after all, she'd come back. Yes, falling was bad—one of her largest regrets, if not the—but she'd returned to the light. Wasn't that enough?

After a short, nerve-racking recess for the Council to analyze the situation, Bastila was asked to return before them. Trembling slightly, she bowed awkwardly before them, and then inquired as to the results of their discussion.

"While we in no way agree with or support a number of your actions, Padawan, we cannot ignore your positive role in the events, and feel that your fall was a lesson that you needed to learn. We also largely acknowledge that, had it not been for your Battle Meditation, we would most likely not have even had the slightest glimmer of hope in overcoming the Sith," stated Master Vrook. Bastila smiled at him. He didn't return the favor.

"Proud of you for returning to the light, we are. Many things, I think, can we expect from you in your future career; the title of Jedi Knight, we do hereby grant you," added Master Vandar.

Bastila was relieved; she bowed in gratitude to the Council, and thanked them profusely. "You are dismissed, Bastila," said Master Vash with a smile.

That night, she was set to meet Revan in one of the numerous cantinas of Coruscant. He too had a hearing with the Council, who wished to assess how in touch he was with his former identity, and to question him about the events prior to the destruction of the Star Forge. Eager to relay her good news to him, Bastila found herself stealing glances at the clock on the wall every few moments… he was late. As she grew more impatient, she ordered herself a drink. Whilst waiting for the bartender to bring it over, she felt Revan's presence enter the room.

His was an aura she knew well, having felt it surge through her mind nearly every day of the past year, and having desired it almost as long. Though similar to how it was when she confronted him on his flagship, two years quondam, it was also very different—this one subtler, more controlled, and above all else, warm. Comforting, in a way. Every time she was even close to his general vicinity it enchanted her in, tugging at her senses, begging her to get just the smallest bit closer.

Sitting beside her, he motioned to the bartender for a drink of his own. He looked towards Bastila earnestly and asked "So?"

"Everything's fine. I'm a Knight now," she answered, simply and modestly. "And you?"

"The same," he replied.

Their drinks were delivered, and they spent several minutes listening to nothing but the clamor of the cantina, silently sipping. Bastila realized that this was one of the few times that they had ever gotten to sit and relax with one another, to live without the weight of the galaxy on their shoulders. The Bastila Shan of the past would have hated the silence, would have much preferred to be spending their time on some sort of task or mission. But she was changed now—she was able to sit and feel the Force flowing through each sentient being in the cantina, and recognize that subdued as it was, the life surging through the man beside her was more poignant than the rest of the patrons, perhaps the rest of the city, put together.

Minutes passed in this fashion, then an hour, then another. Most everyone in the cantina had left, aside from the more dedicated habitués, who made Bastila unsure if they remained there because they didn't have anywhere else to go or simply because they could not get up.

Knowing that the cantina would be closing soon, the two paid for their drinks and began the walk back to the Jedi Temple, where they had both been offered temporary quarters. Coruscant was the heart of the galaxy, brimming with life into all but the waning hours of the night—which, Bastila observed, it seemed to be. Most every shop and building had shut down their lights until the next day, shrouding their journey mostly in the dark, aside from the occasional flickering streetlight. They continued their manner of before—not speaking, merely feeling through the Force. Though part of her wished they could simply revel in this silence for the rest of the night, a question pervaded her mind, gnawing deep in her gut, commanding her vocal chords to phonate.

"Revan…" she began. "What happens now?"

He smiled, slowing his pace, knowing they couldn't talk as freely once they reached the Temple. "That depends. What do you want to happen?"

While part of her felt he was avoiding the question, she knew the decision did ultimately rest on her shoulders; he made it very clear early on that he was interested in her romantically, it was always _her_ saying no—the Jedi saying no. But now? "I am… unsure," she mumbled.

He stopped, turning to face her directly. Their status as Force users, as well as their newly re-ignited bond, allowed them frequent access to the other's mind. While useful in battle, it consistently frustrated the young Sentinel, allowing him to see behind her wary, noncommittal answers. Smirking and raising an eyebrow, he urged Bastila on.

She sighed. "You're right. You're always right, you know that?" Just outside the Jedi Temple, she gazed up at its looming height, and remembered standing at almost in that exact place the day she was brought there to begin her training. As a child, the Temple frightened her—a place of rules and rigorous training that she had to learn to adapt to, and that she did. For over a decade she had done little else than live and breathe the Jedi Code, follow it exactly as it was presented. Never, not in twelve millennia, did she think things would ever turn out this way.

Refocusing her attention, her gaze returned to the man in front of her. "Even when everything seems wrong, you're always ri—"

Her words instantly dissolved the moment his lips met her own.


End file.
